


A Parent's Choice

by YoutubeAndSatan



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Canonical Character Death, Fear, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Heavy Angst, Is that a thing, Parent Thranduil, Past Character Death, Self-Doubt, Seriously; don't read this if you don't want some heavy feels, Thranduil Not Being An Asshole, Thranduil is afraid of being a bad father, Young Legolas Greenleaf, Young!Legolas, apparently 'thranuil not being an asshole' is a tag and I'm quite honestly amazed by that so, basically thrandy has to try to explain to legolas why his mother is gone, it's heartwrenching, parental crisis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-21
Updated: 2017-02-21
Packaged: 2018-09-25 23:28:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9851762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YoutubeAndSatan/pseuds/YoutubeAndSatan
Summary: Will the Elvenking lie to his son, and give himself false hope, or will he tell the truth, and give his son the cold shoulder when he needs reassurance most? Short-ish one shot.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Certain parts of this were taken directly from an RP with my friend Kai! Most of Legolas' dialogue and actions, in fact. Credit to him! I changed some stuff around for the sake of formatting, but other than that, Young!Legolas was his brainchild.

**_“When he died, all things soft and beautiful and bright would be buried with him.” ― Madeline Miller, The Song of Achilles_ **

It had been only three days since the death of the queen, although, it felt like an eternity to him.

He had always been told of the feeling of grief- He felt it when his own parents passed, but he had never felt it like this. Instead of the deep, aching sorrow that he was expecting, he had just felt… numb. He didn’t remember sleeping, eating, drinking- It was almost as if he had been simply drifting through his life, anchored by the fact that he had lost his wife. Nothing felt the same anymore. Colors seemed duller, the halls seemed quieter- not even the music of his people had managed to break him out of his contemplative silence. He had spent so much time reliving their moments together, contemplating what he could have done differently, that he had barely left the throne room since he returned to Mirkwood with Legolas.

In fact, he was so caught up in his remembrance, he didn’t hear the patter of tiny footsteps entering the room, nor did he hear his son’s attempts to get his attention. It was only when he felt a sharp tug on his robes that he broke his self-imposed trance. His first instinct was to snap- how dare someone approach their king in such a way?

“Daddy?” The boy asked, tugging on his robes again to ensure that he had gotten the King’s attention.

Legolas.

Little did he know, Legolas had come to him excited about the fact that he had a butterfly land on his hand earlier that day- and had walked into his father’s room ready to share it with him. All thoughts of the small creature gone, now, of course.

Thranduil didn’t look at him. He knew that it wasn’t in his best interests to ignore the child, but somehow hoped, in vain, that the child would just disappear, and leave him to go back to his thoughts.

"Daddy… I miss mama… When's she coming home?”

He shifted his gaze downwards, only to see his son looking up at him, bright blue eyes glinting with curiosity. In looking down, he was bombarded with memories- Legolas looked very much like him, physically, but all the King could see in his son’s features was his departed wife. He was forced to look away, as to not break down in front of his own child.

Legolas whimpered, thinking he had done something wrong.  
  
The Elvenking stiffened contemplating the question- 'when's she coming home?' He had been asking himself the very same since the moment she passed. He knew that if she chose to be reborn- if she was allowed to be reborn (he assured himself there was no reason for her not to be) then he knew that it would take a while for her to regain the memories of her life with him and their son, and for once, he was _not_ patient.

He was _not_ willing to wait.

He took a deep breath, steeling himself to the best of his current abilities. "I do not know, Legolas.” He answered, not letting his kingly facade drop in fear of losing control of himself.

With that Legolas hugged his fathers leg, nuzzling his face up against it as little whimpers came from him. "Is it my fault? Did Mama leave because of me?"

Now the boy was convinced, sniffling and clinging onto his fathers leg. "I'm sorry daddy! I didn't mean to make Mama leave! I'll bring her back! I promise!" Legolas looked up at him, tears welling up in his eyes as he continually tugged on the Elvenking’s robes, trying everything to get his father to look at him. When his efforts failed, the little boy fell down onto the floor, little sniffles escaping as he gripped on the Elders robes. "I'm sorry Daddy… I didn't mean to make her leave…”

The King's heart overflowed with pain, hearing Legolas say those things. He, being an adult, knew very well that his wife had willingly sacrificed herself to save their son. He knew there was no one to blame- and yet, his son seemed to be mirroring some of the thoughts he had pushed deep inside of his subconscious, cast away, so it wouldn't taint his mind further.

Logically, he assured himself that it wasn't his own fault. But the emotional part of him, the part that his wife always seemed to coax out, was locked away- he knew it was there, screaming, banging on the walls, begging to be heard, but he wouldn't let it. He knew that if he ever allowed himself to even have the inkling of a thought thinking his wife's passing was his fault, it would fester, unrelentingly until it turned him mad.

But the one thing he never did, was blame Legolas.

He took a deep breath, blinking away tears, before finally relenting, kneeling down and gathering his son in a tight hug. He pressed a kiss to the crown of his head, whispering soothingly,

"It's alright. It was not your fault, you did not make her leave." He rubbed his hands along Legolas' back, trying the best he could to calm him down.

His wife had always been the one to handle Legolas when he had outbursts like this. The thought that this would now be his responsibility, his duty, hit him like a boulder.

"She'll be back, eventually." He assured, although he himself wasn't even sure of the fact. The best he could do was hope.

The little boy slumped in his fathers arms, clinging onto his robes as he finally broke, tears spilling over his eyes and down his face as he clung to his father. Legolas clung onto his father like the elder was his lifeline, whimpering and sniffling like a wounded animal. He was prone to outbursts, nightmares and the likes, and his mother had always calmed him down with ease, put him right back to sleep with good thoughts.

But now, there would be no more of that… Not anymore. She was gone… Legolas didn't completely grasp the concept of Death, not yet, he was still too young. All he knew, was his Father was sad, and his Mother was nowhere to be found.

"Promise…?" His little voice was choked up, sounding like the boy would shut down at any minute, start sobbing at any given time. All it would take, was one little thing, to either push him over, or pull him back.

Thranduil winced. He knew very well that his next few words had to be chosen carefully, he knew that they could very possibly stick with this boy for the rest of his life- Was he to let his emotions win, and make that promise?

He was afraid, in giving his word, that he would not only give his son false hope, but that he would thrust that hope upon himself. It was almost as if by some force, hearing the words aloud would make him believe them, make him positive of his wife's return. He was not one to go back on his word- if he promised Legolas that the queen would return, and she never did, he feared that not only would his son not trust him in the future- he feared that his son would soon be left not only without a mother, but without a father. He knew that if he made this promise, in the end, his grief would be too much, in one way or another.

And yet- if he didn't, his fears took on a whole new form. If he took the logical path, the detached path, the one that he was all too familiar with, the question arose: what would become of Legolas? If he told him the truth, how would it affect him? More and more questions continued to race through his mind, considering the consequences of the possible action. Would he always see his father as a cold, completely objective man, void of emotion, one that pushed him away when he needed him the most? Would he ever confide in his father again? Would it force him to grow up too quickly for his own good? Would he grow distant, or afraid? He wasn't sure if he could ever handle his own son looking at him in fear.

He was all-too-aware of the consequences of words, especially to children, people who were still developing. Say something bad enough, it will haunt them for the rest of their lives. Say something good enough, it will push them to rise ahead. Tell them the truth, and they will remember, but tell them a lie, and they will never forget (In the end, he knew that ‘remembering’ something and ‘never forgetting’ something meant two completely different things).

After another few seconds' internal debate, he settled on his answer.

"I promise, she will come back for you.”

His heart gave a leap of hope at the words, just as he expected, and suddenly- he was scared of what might happen to him, after affirming his hopes with a promise. He pushed down his fear, for the good of his son.

He would rather go mad with grief than see his son look at him as a tyrant.

 


End file.
